


Could Have Gone Mad

by SpookyArtThot



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Eldritch!Heartman, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22145218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyArtThot/pseuds/SpookyArtThot
Summary: Blame the homo demens discord for this:Heartman comes back different every time. Just a little stranger, a little more twisted.Every time he comes back, he comes back wrong.
Relationships: Heartman (Death Stranding)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	Could Have Gone Mad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LustInIrony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustInIrony/gifts).



> _You cause in me an impossible craving  
>  That cannot be denied  
> If I decided to make you my religion  
> I think God would be kind_  
> Poe - Could've Gone Mad

_Heartman comes back different every time. Just a little stranger, a little more twisted. He feels it long before he sees it. It manifests as pulsing black veins marbling along his ribs, his chest. It haunts him when he is alone and he looks in the mirror, only for his eyes to turn darker than pitch. He blinks it away, because he must be tired._

_Every time he comes back, he comes back wrong._

_Eyes like the void, but brighter, full of stars and swirling galaxies. People don't visibly notice what has changed, but they are so attuned to his voice now. His gaze pinions them. He can feel their heart beats, they flutter like butterfly wings, he hears their dreams. He seeps into them like ooze as black as chiral tar, and he feels so much more than his human body can contain. It's an effort just to be- and he is so, so tired from the sheer will it takes to reign himself in._

_He cannot help it, when it comes to you. It's not his choice when he enters your dreams, he is guided by instinct, like a flower reaches for the sun. You shine so brightly in his peripheries, and he has so much more of himself to contain now- he cannot stop it._

_There is a steady ebb of himself into your dreams. It's all he can do not to twine around you like a lover's embrace the moment he finds your consciousness. To cover you, cacoon you inside himself where your light can shine brightest._

_There are no true physical bodies here in your dreamscape, yet the shape of you remains the same as the waking world. He finds himself running his eyes along the angle and curves of your body, the simple geometries of you. He reaches to touch, caressing your face with such reverence. His nerves sing as you lean into his touch, and he feels himself slip in his growing excitement, body becoming less solid, less human shaped. You do not shy away from the change._

_He wants to devour you._

_Instead he unravels slowly, mild trepidation tempers him, fear that you might flee in terror at what he is. He would not blame you, as much as he changes, he is still human at his core._

_Your stare of adoration just makes him come undone quicker. He kisses you then, hands and not hands forming to pull you closer. Against him, into him. He writhes and flows around you, stroking tenderly, drawing gasps from you._

_It is not enough, his instincts pushing him farther and farther as he tears your clothing off like wet paper that melts before it hits the ground. It's with no effort that he pushes into you, his body is slick where need be._

_He wants to fill you with himself, wants to be filled with you. To mix so thoroughly in the waters of your soul that his ink turns them black. You are pliant in his embrace, eagerly rocking against him with such bright hungry eyes. Your lips part to sigh so prettily and he slides inside. His moan is a broken thing, voice distorting in pitch as he pushes more of himself into you._

_Your throat vibrates around him, and you clench down on him below, your body taut on the edge of climax. He pushes, stroking you, desperate to make you cum._

_Your orgasm is pure euphoria to his senses, the echos of it rippling across him. He feels his own, spending inside you, filling you with himself, with the void. Leaving a part of himself in you, because you are his._

You wake in a cold sweat, your body heat leaking off you in waves and leaving you vulnerable to the cold. You blink and stare at the ceiling, confused, but content. There is a warm feeling spiraling out from your chest. Dark, inviting, calling in a familiar sonorous voice.

You do not resist the call.


End file.
